


I ran from your heart the day you stole mine

by Elisexyz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Season/Series 02, Strained Relationships, Technically Still Married, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 01:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17633585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Jemma wakes up to her husband cooking her breakfast.It would be nice and sweet, if he weren’t supposed to be in SHIELD’s custody, rather than in her apartment.





	I ran from your heart the day you stole mine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tumblr prompt: [“How about a hug, hm?” + Biospecialist](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/182532103199/how-about-a-hug-hm-biospec). Title from [here](https://www.musixmatch.com/lyrics/Stormfolk-3/Broken-Lovers).

Jemma wakes up to a pleasant smell of pancakes.

For a moment, she just smiles contently, pressing her cheek harder against the pillow and sighing as she stretches her arms, preparing herself to enjoy Grant’s first day back after a long op – he always cooks her breakfast when he comes back, it’s his way to make it up to her for all the lonely meals.

Then, of course, reality hits her like a truck and she shoots on her feet, her heart jumping in her throat at the sight of the light coming from the kitchen, because she lives _alone_ now and there’s no reasonable explanation for anyone being in her apartment.

Coulson sometimes drops by, to check on her, but it’s never to her apartment, and he’s the Director now, he doesn’t have much spare time on his hands.

She grabs the gun that she keeps in the drawer next to her bed, trying to get an handle on her breathing pattern as she carefully walks towards the kitchen. She’s barefoot and not particularly heavy, the floor isn’t prone to creaking – say what you will about Hydra, but they do provide nice living arrangements for their employees – and everything is tidy enough that there’s no risk of her stumbling onto any forgotten items on the floor, so she’s confident that she can make it to her destination with the effect of surpr—

As soon as she sets sight on Grant, happily cooking breakfast in her kitchen, she almost drops the gun, and her jaw most definitely hits the floor.

She didn’t manage to take him by surprise after all, because he immediately turns around, offering a radiant smile.

“Hey, Jem. You hungry?” he says, and it seems so natural that for a split second she wonders if she dreamt it all: the Uprising, his betrayal and imprisonment, her decision – partially fuelled by guilt, because she married an Hydra agent and she never even _realized_ it, she should make it up to the world somehow – of working undercover for SHIELD— except there’s a giant, tasteless octopus painted on the wall on her right, which tells her that Grant is the unstable one here.

Surprise, surprise.

“How did you get into my house?” she asks, sternly, raising her gun back up, even though, if she knows him at all – which, considering what came out in the last year, is not too much of a given anymore –, it will have little to no impact.

In fact, Grant barely pays any attention to the gun, in favour of setting his pancakes on the plates.

“Is that your way of greeting your husband, who just cooked you breakfast?” he finally asks, with a shit-eating grin that Jemma would really love to shoot right off his face.

The last time she saw him, he was rotting away inside a prison cell. She preferred him there, far, far away from her, where she could just flat-out refuse to speak with him and listen to him as he spewed more and more _lies_ — she has been married to a lie, for years she thought he was something that he _wasn’t_ , and the last thing that she wants is having to stare at this stranger wearing her husband’s face.

“How about a hug, mmh?” Grant adds, taking a step forward. “I’ve been told that your _love_ for me is so _strong_ that you decided to flip sides. I was a _little_ bit surprised, you know, but if that’s the case, I think that a hug is the right way to go here.”

Oh, crap. Oh, _crap_.

She just blew her entire cover, didn’t she?

She saw Grant, and she completely forgot that she’s supposed to be playing the role of the faithful wife here, she didn’t stop to think that if he was there he most likely talked to her supervisors and he must be back with Hydra— crap.

“Oh, yes,” she says, quickly, and it sounds terribly fake in her own ears. She puts down the gun, attempting a small smile to save the unsalvageable. “Yes, I’m sorry, it’s just— I thought that you were in prison, and you really startled me, I am not even fully awake yet— I’m sorry, darling—”  

She sounds less like a fake the more she goes on, but one look at his raised eyebrows and barely contained amusement tells her all she needs to know.

She sighs.

“You know, don’t you?” she asks, resigned. She still has a hold on her gun, and he seems unarmed, technically she _could_ try to take a shot, but she doesn’t doubt his ability to dodge and find a way to get the upper hand even though he seems at a disadvantage, it’s best not to engage in a firefight. She isn’t sure she would be able to put a bullet in him anyway.

Grant snorts. “Of course I know,” he replies, now grinning openly in amusement and taking a few more steps in her direction. “I mean, Jemma Simmons betraying SHIELD and everything she stands for? Please, I always knew you would never, why do you think I kept quiet about Hydra? I _wanted_ to tell you, but I knew you wouldn’t take it well.”

“I dare anybody to take years of lies well,” she points out, without bothering to mask her bitterness.

He clenches his jaw, the amusement toned down for a minute, but he says nothing.

“So,” Jemma begins, trying to make it sound conversational even as her heart starts pounding and she can feel her grip on the gun getting slippery. “Why am I still here and not in an interrogation room, if you know? It can’t be hard to argue your case, right?”

“I wouldn’t sell you out,” he protests, like the mere suggestion that he would were ridiculous. “I don’t give a shit about Hydra, I’ve been trying to tell you that for months.”

“But you want something,” she says, confidently, because he wouldn’t be there if he didn’t. Coulson can’t have let him go, he must have escaped, and if he didn’t flee it means that he wants something from her.

If there was any sincerity to his pleads to be allowed to see her while he was imprisoned, Jemma can guess what it is.

“Yes,” he replies, staring at her in the eyes. “I want you to give me a chance. To make it up to you and to—to be completely, absolutely honest. I couldn’t before, but I can now, and I want to.”

“And what if I’m not interested?” she says, sharply.

“I’ll have to insist?”

He doesn’t threaten to go ahead and tell everybody that she’s undercover, he doesn’t need to: she knows that he _could_ , and that’s enough for fear to start creeping up under her skin. If asked, he’d probably say that he would never sell her out, but— how can she trust that, after everything?

“Look,” he continues, closing the distance between them to gently reach for her arms, the way he always did when he was really trying to get her to listen. She doesn’t shove him off, she isn’t sure why. “We both know you are not trained for this, and whatever crash course they gave you is not _enough_. I can help. I’m going to stay here, solidify your cover as the faithful wife in love, and make sure that nothing happens to you.”

“And in return, I let you back in my bed, is that it?” she interjects sharply.

He snorts. “I can sleep on the couch until you change your mind, if you like, I don’t care,” he replies, easily. “I just want you not to keep me at arm’s length, to—to spend time with me, that’s all. See that I’m the same guy, more or less.”

“A moral code less,” she replies, sharply.

He shrugs, offering a small, amused grin. “What do you say?”

She tries to weight her choices, but there aren’t many: he isn’t going to leave, Coulson isn’t going to be able to arrest him in the middle of Hydra territory, she could maybe ask for an extraction, but that would mean blowing everything to hell— and she can’t deny that she really has had an hard time with this task. If she plays nice, he _will_ keep her alive, she knows that. She can even get away with not playing _too_ nice, because he is going to expect and accept some anger.

What harm can it do, really? If anything, she can use this opportunity to prove to herself that the man that she loved didn’t exist, that she isn’t going to fall for Grant’s tricks ever again, and that she can move on.

Yes, this will be a—a really useful healing experience.

“Okay,” she says, quietly. “You keep me safe, and I will— give you a chance. Sort of. I’m still very pissed.”

He smiles widely in the exact same way he did when he won a bet and she was forced to bring him breakfast to bed or let him choose the movie for three times in a row or what not – her stomach does a really curious backflip, and she isn’t sure that is a very good sign.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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